


Long Awaited Awakenings

by Passions



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Passions/pseuds/Passions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phantom of the Opera AU ficlet for JoyfulSerenade!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Awaited Awakenings

Belle sighed as she changed out of her stage costume, breathing more deeply as the tight corset was released. As she pulled it off and turned to the rest of her underthings she looked at her two options of what to change into. Either a lovely deep blue evening dress, or her less elaborate but much more comfortable night gown.

Gaston had come to her after the show and wanted to take her out. Her childhood friend, the first boy she had ever kissed when they were both ten, now the Vicomte de Chagny and patron to this Opera House that was her home. She hadn’t seen him since they were twelve. Nearly ten years now. He had been her first love. They had thought they might be married once upon a time. But her father’s fame at viola playing had decreased with his health, as he had become unable to travel. Their finances had slipped from comfortable to somewhere approaching poverty. When her father had died, Belle had been left alone and with not much money.

She had been lucky to be taken in by the Mother Superior of a nearby convent. But though Belle thrived on the learning she could do among the nuns, she had never been meant for such a secluded and refined life. The Mother Superior had written to a friend and in less than a year Belle had found herself in the Opera Populaire, training under Madame Lucas.

Madame Lucas was a hard woman, but she was kind to her girls and she actually took pride in them. Belle had been training under her and dancing in the ballet corps ever since.

Her other teacher she had come upon without ever meaning to. Most of the ballerinas slept together in the opera house, so privacy wasn’t easy to come by. But Belle had found, when she was fifteen, that she was generally able to slip out of the bed she shared with Ruby Lucas, Madame Lucas’ granddaughter and Belle’s best friend in the world, and sneak down to the crypts where she had set up a shrine to her father. Madame Lucas didn’t mind, so long as Belle didn’t stay up too long and was able to get up with everyone else in the morning.

It wasn’t until she was sixteen that she began singing to her father’s spirit, songs from her childhood which she tried to translate into the style that the opera singers used. Her voice wasn’t trained, but she thought it pretty enough. Certainly good enough for her poor father’s spirit.

And then he had come to her. At first she had thought him to be her father’s ghost. But no. He was something other, though she wasn’t sure what. He had the most gorgeous voice and he sang like an angel. She tried to ignore that bit inside of her that trembled in pleasure when her mind named him a dark angel, his voice too deep and sinful to be a spirit of true light. He had taught her to sing. He came to her, or rather his voice did, when she visited the crypts. He told her that she was special, that he did not wish to aid anyone else in the way he aided her and so they must meet in secret. She refused to study the implications of her hurt that she had never truly met him. Only ever his voice.

But it had been enough. She was completely entranced by him and every time he spoke to her the longing inside her to meet him in person, to see him, to smell him, to feel him, grew stronger and stronger inside of her.

Madame Lucas called him a ghost - the Phantom of the Opera. But Belle could not bring herself to think of him as anything so sinister. He was her Angel of Music - a shining light in her life, though what little she knew about him tormented her nights as she wished to know more.

Tonight had been a special night. Gaston had come and Belle was joyful over the prospect of getting to know her oldest friend again. And then the old owner of the Opera had announced his retirement and introduced the new owners, George King and his business partner Henry Mills. Mr. Mills had also brought his wife and daughter with him.

There had been an accident with a tapestry and the leading soprano of the show, Mihla, had refused to sing, citing danger to her person. The new owners had been in a scramble to find someone to replace her and Madame Lucas had suggested Belle. They had all been quite sceptical, but Belle had sung for them and they had seemed happy enough to allow her to sing. Belle noticed that Mr. Mills didn’t seem to make any choice before first consulting his wife. Belle was also unnerved by the glint in Mr. King’s eyes as he had looked at her. But she ignored it and prepared for the show. It had gone well.

When she had arrived back at the dressing room she had been given, she found a deep red rose with a blue ribbon tied around it waiting on her vanity. Her Angel was pleased with her. Her cheeks ached with smiling as she glanced at it again.

And then Gaston had come. She had been hoping to reignite their friendship, but he had seemed more interested in a deeper relationship. Belle supposed she would have been gratified to be courted by him if it wasn’t for her Angel.

But as it was, Belle knew her Angel was protective of her and that he would not want her to be out at such an hour as this. She had no desire to go out and worry him, certainly not just to see Gaston.

So she pulled on her loose nightgown and set the evening dress aside. The nightgown was white and sheer. There was a blue ribbon that tied under her breasts and the neckline was wide enough that her shoulder sat bare. She had moved to grab her hairbrush off of the vanity when she heard his voice.

Gaston was pounding on her door, but her Angel’s voice was resonating through her, offering to come to her, offering to take her with him, and that was an offer she couldn’t even fathom denying.

He appeared in her mirror, smaller than she might have assumed, given the power in his voice. But his eyes were warm, even the one hidden by the mask that covered half of his face and his grip was strong as he took her hand and led her through the mirror. She followed him down tunnels deep inside the opera house to a vast underground lake and a boat which he handed her into. He poled them through a maze of waterways until they finally reached a bank.

And it must have been where he lived because it was absolutely lavish. Silks and velvets were draped over every surface and candles stood in sconces and on stands, providing more than enough light. There were various knick knacks strewn about and further along the bank, Belle could see a baby grand piano. Her Angel had made this underground place his home. She wondered why he would not live among everyone else.

But all questions left her mind as he handed her out of the boat and began singing to her. His voice was deep and smooth, roughening only when he seemed to want it to. And it did such terrible things to her when it did roughen, her legs went weak and some place deep in the pit of her stomach ached in a way she didn’t understand.

It was well that he sang about intoxication for she knew no other word to describe her feelings towards him. He came up behind her as she looked in curiosity at everything he had collected and held her close to him. His warmth at her back and his hands running lightly over her stomach only made the ache worse.

It took Belle a moment to realize that he had stopped singing, though his hands continued to caress her. He must have moved her hair aside at some point because she could feel his breath puffing lightly on her neck. All of this, the tangible evidence that her Angel was no angel in truth, but in fact a man of flesh and blood, should perhaps have worried her. Instead it sent a wave of heat through her body, his stroking hands only fanning the fires.

She turned in his arms to face him, staring into eyes that looked as though they held banked embers before her gaze dropped to his lips. Belle had never thought much of men’s lips. She had kissed Gaston when they were young, but out of no desire other than that of gaining knowledge.

But looking at her Angel’s lips, she wanted more than anything to touch them with her own. To taste him. So she seized hold of her bravery and did just that, holding on to his shoulders for support and pressing her lips to his. He was stiff for a moment before he relaxed into the embrace, stroking her hips with his thumbs and massaging her mouth with his.

It felt better than anything Belle could think of. Little shockwaves of pleasure were shooting through her and the heaviness in her lower abdomen was increasing. She gasped as she felt some sort of wetness between her thighs, but he took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth and she forgot any sort of embarrassment.

Belle was not a proper lady. Not highborn enough to be one. But if anyone needed extra proof, they could find it in her opinions on being kissed silly by her Angel. Probably, proper ladies were not meant to enjoy having men’s tongues pushed into their mouths. But if being a lady meant Belle would have to find some problem with her current situation, she was rather glad not to be one.

Her Angel’s hands came up to cradle and caress her jaw as he deepened the kiss even further, tilting her head back so he could stroke slow and deep into her, tasting every inch of her mouth. And she clung to him as he pleasured her so.

Eventually he pulled away from her and smiled down at her, the eye not covered by his mask crinkling in delight. Belle could only stare up at him with a starstruck expression. He took her hand and she followed him willingly as he led her to an extremely lavish bed. 

Carved into the shape of some bird she couldn’t discern at the moment and covered in silks and pillows, it looked like the most comfortable bed in the world. And indeed when he led her to sit on it, she couldn’t recall ever having felt something so soft. She felt she might have been sitting on a cloud. He joined her on the bed and encouraged her to lay down. He lay down on her left side, which she was grateful for, so she could see his face, rather than the mask. 

And then he returned to plundering her mouth and she was lost in sensation again. She was shocked out when she felt his hand on her breast. Her eyes were wide, though more with surprise than fear, as she looked up at him.

“What are we doing? What is happening.”

He smiled calmly down at her. “You deserve a gift, little dove, for your fine performance tonight. I intend to give you one.” He moved his hand from her breast to lightly caress her cheek. “Fear not, pet. You will leave here intact. I wish only to give you pleasure.” The smile dropped from his face. “I will stop at any time, should you wish it. You have only to ask.” He paused for a moment as he stared into her eyes. “What would you bid me do?”

Belle had never had such power over any person. And she had no experience with the pleasures she understood him to be talking about. So she had no idea what to ask of him. She cleared her throat. “Do as you will.”

He grinned again and bent to press his lips to hers. This time, when his hand took hold of her breast, she only held tighter to his shoulders.

“You may make noise, pet. If you wish it.”

From that point she stopped trying to hide the noises that bubbled up in her throat as he stroked his hands everywhere over her body - moans and whimpers and breathy gasps. He focussed his attentions over her breasts before moving to caress her stomach and then her legs - all of his touches were only heightened by the thin fabric between his hands and her skin.

The pulsing in her body was telling her that she needed his touch below her stomach, between her thighs. She knew enough of the world to understand how babies were created, but surely a man could have no reason to use his hands in that place.

It turned out she was wrong. 

It took Belle a long while to realize he was shifting her nightgown up her legs and by the time she did realize, she was so overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on her bare skin that she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She did care, though when he pulled her nightgown up enough to expose her sex. She was uncomfortably aware of the wetness there, though she didn’t understand why it would be so. She tried to close her legs, which she didn’t even remember opening, but he stopped her, whispering soft nonsense against her hair as he kissed her brow.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. It’ll help you feel good.”

And then he stroked a finger up her sex and her back bowed off the bed as she moaned. When she looked up at him, he was grinning. “I told you it would feel good, did I not?”

She nodded frantically and spread her legs further for him.

“Good girl.” he whispered.

He pressed his mouth back against hers, stroking her tongue and lips and his finger went back to stroking her sex. The pressure coiled in her stomach continued to grow and only got worse when he slipped the tip of his finger inside her. She whimpered as he thrust at her gently. He returned to stroking and she couldn’t help her hips from rising to meet his hand. And then he found something at the top of her sex that made her head spin and increased the pressure in her belly with every flick.

She didn’t know what was happening. Something was building up, but she didn’t know what, or how to stop it, or how to make it keep going, or which one of those she should want.

“Let go, Belle. Just give into it, Sweetheart and let go. I’m here. I have you.”

And with that something inside of her broke and exploded outwards and her vision filled with stars. She could feel his hand, stroking slower and slower before he removed it from her completely and covered her with her nightgown once again.

Belle felt more exhausted than she ever had as she curled herself up against her Angel.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

Before she drifted off she remembered there was something she’d wanted to ask. 

“What’s your name?”

She heard a soft chuckle and felt the movement of his chest under her cheek.

“Rhys.”

“Rhys.” she repeated. “Thank you, Rhys.” She snuggled closer and fell asleep smiling, sated beyond her wildest dreams and safe with her Angel-who-was-a-man.


End file.
